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#i hope you like ocs
sunset-peril · 1 month
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Here we go! A 20K word story for your weekend enjoyment. I tried to remove all the typos from the original publication, and I changed a few things around. Let me know if typos/inconsistencies exist.
Technically a sequel to Trial of the Zora Armor, but I think it can be (at least mostly) read without reading Armor first.
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emberglowfox · 7 months
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Keeper -- a short comic about an angel meeting a robotic lighthouse keeper that doesn't know the world has already ended. Made in about 18 hours for a 24-hour 24-page* black and white comic challenge (that I arrived late to, ha.)
*the actual submission does not include the cover, which was created after the fact for this post.
This was a really great learning experience as someone who's... never really made a completed comic. I ended up really attached to the story by the end of the project (possibly due to all-nighter deliriousness lol) and ultimately am very proud of what I made.There are some things I'd still like to change, particularly text placement, but in keeping with the spirit of the challenge I've elected to leave it as is.
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hellspawnmotel · 8 days
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intimacy between an evil spiteful building-sized supercomputer and the lone scientist left behind after everyone else ditched and forgot about her (in which computer wants to kill scientist really bad but her programming wont let her so she just attempts to make her as miserable as possible instead, which also doesn't work because scientist is a freak)
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pprodsuga · 7 months
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i’m serious about you
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summary: gojo realizes just how much he likes you when you go on your first date
note: feeling a bit soft for gojo rn so pls enjoy this little scenario…it’s 2am and i just wanna write something before i go to bed <3 gojo is probably a little ooc but this is my blog so!!!
i’m a lil rusty when ur comes to writing fics but i hope u enjoy!
warnings: fluff fluff fluff + she/her pronouns
masterlist :)
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“I’m surprised this place is open so late.”
You mutter absentmindedly as you look at the pastries behind the glass, face at a respectable distance while Gojo stands beside you. He leans down to see what you see, his own eye catching the chocolate cake sitting on the top shelf.
“Nanami told me about it a while ago,” he explains. “Says he likes to come here when he can’t sleep since they’re open so late.”
“Do you like this bakery?”
Gojo watches as you pick and choose which pastries you want to try. The girl behind the counter lifts her gaze to him, eyes widening before averting her gaze to the small box in her hands.
“Haven’t tried it, actually,” Gojo says. He rubs the back of his neck when you turn around. “I, uh, wanted to wait. To try it with you, I mean.”
He sees your mouth morph into a shy smile and he can’t help but return it. Gojo turns and orders a beverage from the cashier, watching as her fingers fumble with the buttons before she relays the bill.
You’re about to pull out your wallet when Gojo reacts quicker than you can comprehend. You watch as he gives his credit card to the cashier without batting an eyelash. He laughs when you huff and grumble about being able to pay for the pastries since he paid for dinner, but he bumps his hips with yours and tells you it‘s on him.
You look so perfect under the awful fluorescent lights in your best dress and hair let down. He’s not used to seeing you like this; so carefree without your worries tucked away in that pretty little head of yours.
Gojo used to think he’d make it through life without relying on anyone and that he couldn’t count on other people for his own source of happiness and companionship. But he can’t deny there’s something about you that tugs at his heart strings a bit too aggressively.
This feeling follows him to the morning prior, when he asked you to accompany him to dinner. Gojo had guessed that you liked him more than you let on but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same. This new sensation in the pit of his stomach travels with him tonight, especially when he takes a step back to fully absorb the way you look in his jacket. It dwarfs your shorter stature yet Gojo thinks it was made for you to wear.
The girl behind the counter turns around to finish the order, leaving the two of you to your wits for the time being. Gojo senses that this—casual dating or otherwise—isn’t something you do often. He silently thanks Shoko for drilling him about you (likes, dislikes, who you are as a person aside from the so-called friend group you two belong in) because he sees your finger tapping against the side of your leg and decides to make a move.
“I really like spending time with you,” Gojo starts. “I could do this again and again if you let me.”
“Really?” you ask, sounding something akin to disbelief. Your dress follows your movements as you turn around but all Gojo can focus on is the way your cheeks begin to blush. How cute.
He takes a step forward, nodding. “Believe it or not, I really enjoy spending all of my money on cute girls.”
“Is that so?“ you ask with an uptick in your voice. “Wonder if I’m the cutest, then.”
Gojo knows you’re joking by the way you’re smiling at him, but he wants to set the record straight.
“You are,” he says, “because you’re the only one.”
A soft sound distracts the two of you and he looks past your shoulder to see the cashier has set his beverage on the counter. Gojo thanks her and grabs the cup when he notices notices she’s written her phone number on the back of the surface. His stomach drops when he sees your eyes linger on the penmanship.
He panics.
“I must be special.”
Your voice lacks the humor from moments prior, eyes glazing over the written numbers while Gojo pathetically stands like he’s a frozen statue. He doesn’t know why he cares what you think of him nor why he wants to disprove the theory that he can’t settle down because of an innate need to flirt with everything that breathes. He watches you swallow and avert your gaze to the exit sign when he nods furiously.
“Yeah, you are.”
Gojo throws the beverage in the trash can beside him and cups your jaw in both of his hands to pull you into a tender kiss in the middle of a poorly lit bakery with two other patrons. He thinks your lips taste like coconut and sugar, so soft that he could keep his mouth on you forever and never complain.
He must be doing something right because you’re kissing him back.
You pull away first and he laughs at your flustered state, leaning in to press another quick kiss to your lips before you can escape him. He pays no mind to the girl who walks into the back room.
“I’ll spend however long it takes to make you understand that I’m serious about you,” Gojo promises.
“You better send Nanami a thank you card.” You grab the box of pastries. “Taking me here was a good start.”
Yeah, he thinks. She’s the one.
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choccy-milky · 1 month
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MC doing what we all wished we could do (aka napping on the floor with ominis )😴💕
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spidertams · 10 months
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Felt like sharing my oc Mireia! She often glitches like a vhs and likes to play the bass
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littleprincepaladin · 5 months
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what a hell of a way to die!
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sensitiveheartless · 2 months
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Written followup to the horrors comic! It got away from me lol. Most of it's under the cut, cause this part is also a bit long.
~*~
Minutes passed by on the quiet moonlit dock.
Despite the renewed serenity of the night, Chuuya’s heart continued to race sickeningly fast. It hammered away in his chest, as if unable to fully grasp that the danger had passed.
His clothes were heavy and waterlogged, so cold against his skin that he could barely keep from shivering. Icy trickles ran down the back of his neck and dripped from his hair.
Closing his eyes didn’t help. There were far too many twisted corpses engraved in the darkness whenever he blinked. So he kept his eyes open, staring at the planks beneath them as he tried to steady his breathing.
Don’t think about it, Chuuya told himself. Don’t think about them.
Instead, he forced himself to remain in the present moment. Beneath the planks, he could hear the swell of the ocean waters, each wave lapping at the posts in a quiet rhythm. Salt filled his lungs with every breath, the heavy tang of the sea-soaked wood wafting around him.
And against his chest was Dazai’s head, a steady and grounding pressure. His ear rested over Chuuya’s heart, his arms still tight around him.
In that position, Dazai must have been able to hear how hard Chuuya’s heart was pounding—but surprisingly, he didn’t remark upon it. He remained utterly silent.
In return, Chuuya didn’t say a word about the almost crushing strength of Dazai’s arms where they wrapped around his middle. Dazai’s fingers were digging into his ribs, twin rows of sharp pressure, and Chuuya could feel them shaking.
Dazai’s hair was coarse where Chuuya’s cheek rested against it. Back in the day, before Dazai’s defection, he never bothered with conditioner. It seemed some things never changed, even in the light.
For one wild moment, Chuuya wished that he wasn’t wearing a pair of gloves—then he could bury his bare fingers in Dazai’s hair and see if it was as tangled as it looked. And, perhaps, warm himself up. Dazai was like a radiator against him, heat seeping through Chuuya’s drenched layers of clothes at every point of contact, but his gloves remained cold, the sodden leather chilling him to the bone. His joints ached as he uncurled his fingers from around Dazai’s shoulders.
Perhaps it would be worth it to just…indulge for a moment, if only to have something else to needle Dazai about. Really, the man needed to learn how to groom himself properly one of these days.
As Chuuya’s hand hovered indecisively over Dazai’s head, however, he realized that his heart rate had already evened out. While he was reminiscing about Dazai’s damn mess of hair, of all things.
Ridiculous. But that meant that there was absolutely no excuse for the two of them to remain wrapped around each other any longer. Dazai’s shivering seemed to have calmed as well.
“We should—” Chuuya’s voice cracked when he tried to speak, so he paused and cleared his throat before going on. “We should make sure it’s really gone. I don’t want that thing getting the jump on me again.”
Dazai tensed, and his grip tightened so much that for a moment Chuuya could scarcely breathe.
“Oi. C’mon, you need to let me up,” Chuuya wheezed, swatting at Dazai’s shoulder. He strained his neck to look down at the head buried against his chest, a pang of something that was surely exasperation tightening his throat. “I need to be able to reach it, Dazai.”
Dazai remained still for another long moment, then abruptly loosened his grip. Instead of letting Chuuya up, however, he pushed him down to sit on the damp planks, and rose to his feet himself.
“I’ll go,” Dazai said quietly, and strode past Chuuya towards the small, oval mirror where it lay shattered on the dock.
Right. It did make sense to have Dazai touch it first, in case it was an ability that could be nullified.
…But what if it’s not? What if it’s something like Lovecraft? Dazai will be defenseless, Chuuya thought, and instinctively started to his feet as well.
“Stay back,” Dazai said sharply, without even turning to look. He was standing over the mirror, staring down at it. “Don’t move forward until I say so.”
Chuuya scowled, but remained in place. He watched as Dazai bent down and extended a careful hand towards the shards of glass.
One tap, with the tip of a finger. Then another, less cautious tap against the side of the wooden frame. Then another, and another, Dazai’s touches moving systematically across every inch of shattered glass and broken wood.
Nothing happened.
Dazai breathed out, and stepped back. “There. You are now welcome to crush it into dust,” he said lightly, waving Chuuya forward.
His head was still downturned, his eyes cast in the shadow of his bangs as Chuuya walked past him to do the deed.
It was with deep pleasure that Chuuya pressed each little bit of the mirror into nothingness, grinding it down with the overwhelming weight of gravity.
After it was done, Chuuya scattered the dust into the ocean waters below. “What the fuck was that thing, anyway?” he asked, turning back to face the other.
When he turned, however, he found Dazai had moved to sit on the edge of the dock, his legs dangling off the edge.
His back was facing Chuuya. It seemed deliberate.
At first, Dazai didn’t respond to Chuuya’s question. The silence stretched long enough that Chuuya began to shiver again, the cold wind cutting through his damp clothes.
“…A Face Like Glass,” Dazai said at last. “That’s what the ability was called.”
“So it was a gifted,” Chuuya muttered. He walked to Dazai’s side, and dropped down beside him with a heavy sigh. “That mean the user is still out there somewhere?”
“No,” Dazai said softly. “She died some time ago, I’m afraid.”
Chuuya looked at him sharply. “What?”
There wasn’t much light by which to see, but Chuuya knew Dazai’s face like the back of his own hand. Better, probably. And he could tell that the detective’s features had gone unnaturally still.
It was how Dazai looked whenever he was unsure of how much he should give away. Typically his poker faces were more natural, but when he was strongly conflicted, he would simply go blank.
“Explain,” Chuuya said, crossing his arms. “That thing almost killed me, I think I ought to know what it was.”
That got a reaction. Dazai’s lips twitched downward and he looked away, hiding his face from Chuuya once again.
After another lingering pause, however, he finally began to talk.
“A Face Like Glass was the ability of a woman named Hardinge,” Dazai said, as blandly as if he were reciting a history lesson. “She could reflect the darkest thoughts of anyone who looked into that mirror of hers, and give those thoughts physical form. Quite literally a nightmare to deal with, as one can imagine. She was the terror of England. However, after she rose to prominence, the mirror began to behave a bit oddly.
“The more renowned Hardinge became, the more people began to fear her ability. She kept the exact details of the mirror shrouded in mystery, so her enemies were always speculating what horrors it might do to them next.
“Naturally, over time, their darkest thoughts became consumed with fear of the mirror itself. And when Hardinge reflected those thoughts, manifesting them into reality…well. You can imagine what happened.”
Chuuya’s hands formed fists in his lap, so tight the leather of his gloves creaked. His fingers were somehow even colder than before. “A runaway effect,” he said. Despite his best efforts, his voice came out rough. “A singularity.”
“Quite,” Dazai said. “The heights of human imagination should never be underestimated. The more powerful anyone imagined the mirror was, the more powerful it became. When their fears manifested, their imaginations ran ever more wild with terrifying possibilities. Which it would also reflect. And so on, and so on. The only one who could control it was Hardinge herself, stopping the runaway cycle by covering the mirror. She acted as a control for the ability for many years, preventing it from going too far.
“But one day, one of her enemies had the dubiously clever idea to turn the mirror back on Hardinge herself. Which, ordinarily, would have been a mere scare tactic. I’m sure their only intent was to make her hesitate to use the mirror by making her own fears manifest.
“However, that is not what happened. Keep in mind, Hardinge had been watching this ability of hers grow with each battle she fought, gaining strength after strength, only barely containing it with her efforts. Sometimes it must have seemed so powerful that it nearly eclipsed her own self.
“Anyone would be frightened of that. It can’t be surprising that her darkest thoughts contained the fear that her mirror would one day consume her.”
Silence stretched, frigid and fragile as ice.
“…So her own ability ate her,” Chuuya said flatly.
“Yes,” Dazai said. “And without anyone left to contain it, the mirror was unleashed.”
Chuuya rubbed wearily at his temples. “Okay. Then how did it get here? To Yokohama?”
“From what I hear, Hardinge was not popular with the Order of the Clock Tower,” Dazai said. “She had gone into hiding here when her ability overtook her. The Special Operations Division then sent out operatives to contain it.”
Chuuya raised his head. “Oh. They’re involved? Wait, does that mean…was that ex-drinking buddy of yours the one who told you all this?”
Dazai nodded, and Chuuya could faintly make out a crooked smile on his lips in the darkness. “Ango called to warn me of its escape. They had done everything they could to keep it locked away so it could be studied, but all it took was one researcher fearing that the creature had the ability to get out of its cell, and it immediately had that power,” he said, leaning back on his bandaged palms. He gave Chuuya a sidelong look, heavy with significance. “Then, of course, while Ango was briefing me on A Face Like Glass, I also got word that a certain tiny mafioso had gone out to fight an unknown monster that was terrorizing the shipyards.”
Chuuya met his stare with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, so?” he said. “It was scaring my subordinates. Someone had to do something.”
Dazai’s gaze darkened further. “Chuuya, you went alone,” he said. “You tried to face it all by yourself, without even knowing what it was. You could have —” He broke off, and looked away once more. His nails were digging into the wood of the dock, his shoulders stiff. 
Hiding again, Chuuya thought.
For a moment, Chuuya considered pointing out that there wasn’t anyone for him to call for help. Very few of the other mafia members could stand up to an otherworldly threat—and even those who could, like Akutagawa, were not anyone who Chuuya would want exposed to a fear-monster. Everyone in the mafia had far too much darkness to reflect.
Besides, Dazai had no room to scold Chuuya when he was the one who had left him without a partner in the first place.
But even as Chuuya contemplated speaking those cutting words aloud, he found himself unable to.
Because even though Chuuya hadn’t called, Dazai had come anyway.
And, if the reflections of that ability could be believed, one of Dazai’s darkest thoughts was losing Chuuya to Corruption. Right alongside Dazai’s fear of his own past self, and his fear of disappointing his old friend. That…changed some things.
Chuuya sighed, releasing a long-held weight. Then he prodded Dazai’s shoulder with a cold, gloved fingertip. “Hey,” he said. “Look at me.”
Dazai’s shoulders hitched higher, but he didn’t turn.
“What’s your deal?” Chuuya demanded, poking him again. “You don’t have to hide from me, idiot. What, you think I’m gonna make fun of you for having emotions?”
That, apparently, surprised Dazai enough to glance back at Chuuya, his brow furrowed.
“Because I won’t,” Chuuya said. “Not about this. I mean…look, before you showed up, that mirror motherfucker had already reflected a lot of people at me. The Flags, the Sheep, Murase, even N. That’s how it got close enough to me to grab me and drag me under in the first place. So if you’re embarrassed of breaking down or some shit, you shouldn’t be. I did too.”
“It’s not that,” Dazai muttered, his eyes darting away across the dark ocean waters once again.
“Then what?” Chuuya prompted impatiently, leaning closer.
“I froze,” Dazai said, his lips twisting in disgust. “Under the slightest amount of pressure, I broke. You could have died, just because I couldn’t bring myself to fire at a poor imitation of my friend.”
Chuuya blinked. “What’s wrong with that? I broke too. And you were there to pull me out of the water. I saved you, and you saved me. That’s what partners are for, right?”
That finally got Dazai to face him, whipping around so quickly it must have hurt his neck. His eyes were wide, his lips parted in surprise.
Chuuya knew why. It had been years since he had called Dazai his partner.
All too aware that his cheeks were beginning to heat, Chuuya reached out to pull the infuriating man into his arms, tucking Dazai’s head against his shoulder. “Not a word,” he growled, squeezing Dazai tightly in warning. “Make fun of me for this and I’m kicking you into the ocean.”
Dazai let out a choked noise, and suddenly he was clinging to Chuuya just as tight, his fingers practically clawing into his back.
He was shaking again. Or maybe they both were.
“It—it had been so long since I heard his voice,” Dazai cried against Chuuya’s neck, muffled and damp on his skin. “I don’t want that to be how I remember him, I don’t, I hate it…”
Chuuya closed his eyes and saw Albatross laying on the ground in pieces, staring up at him in betrayal. He let out a slow, careful breath, and held Dazai closer.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know. I get it.”
Dazai was still so warm. And Chuuya’s hands were still so terribly cold.
Making a reckless decision, Chuuya pulled off his soaked gloves and tossed them aside, then sunk his fingers into Dazai’s mess of curls without hesitation. He felt more than heard the sharp inhale against his neck, and the quiet questioning hum that followed. Chuuya ignored it and continued to card his fingers through Dazai’s hair.
“…Chuuya?” Dazai breathed.
Chuuya tugged absently at a knot. “Tangled,” he grunted. “It was bothering me.”
“Mm,” Dazai hummed, and his hands slid up the back of Chuuya’s jacket. “Chuuya’s cold.”
“No shit,” Chuuya said grumpily. “I fell in the fucking ocean, and it’s freezing out here.”
There was a soft laugh, then a strange sensation ghosted across the side of Chuuya’s neck just above his choker, almost like a pair of lips had pressed there. Chuuya’s hands tightened in Dazai’s hair, stiffening in surprise. He could only wonder if he had imagined it, unable to comprehend any other possibility.
He certainly didn’t imagine what Dazai said next, however.
“Come home with me,” Dazai whispered, his lips brushing against Chuuya’s skin once again.
Chuuya made a very strange noise, somewhere between a shriek and a gasp, and used his grip on Dazai’s hair to haul him away just enough for their eyes to meet. “The fuck?” he spluttered, face burning. “What do you mean, where did that — hah?”
Dazai’s eyes were rimmed in red, dulled with weariness. One of his hands wandered up to Chuuya’s cheek and rested there, circling the blush with his thumb. “I don’t want you out of my sight right now,” he said quietly. “That’s all.”
Ah. Right. The reflection of Corruption.
Well. Chuuya couldn’t really deny that he wasn’t looking forward to a night spent alone in his own apartment. He might not dream, but that didn’t matter if he couldn’t even get to sleep. Having someone beside him might help.
And beyond all that—this was the first time that Dazai had ever asked Chuuya to stay with him.
So, dazed and still a little flushed, Chuuya abandoned all common sense and replied, “Okay.”
Dazai captured one of Chuuya’s hands between his own, and brought it to his lips to brush a kiss across his knuckles. “Good,” he murmured, and pulled Chuuya to his feet. A slight smile flitted across his features. “I think I spotted Chuuya’s dreadful hat further towards the shore. Shall we find it first?”
Chuuya’s knuckles were still tingling. “Okay,” he repeated, strangled and utterly bewildered. His thoughts were chasing themselves in circles like a pack of confused terriers, but he allowed Dazai to tow him away towards the lights of the city.
And if Chuuya’s fingers ended up intertwined with Dazai’s as they traversed the shadows…well.
The streets were too dark for anyone to prove it.
“…Wait, is there even room at your place? You’re still living in that shitty dorm, aren’t you?”
A familiar grin and a pair of twinkling eyes turned back to him as they passed through a dimly lit alley. “Hmm? Chuuya has been tracking where I live? How sentimental of you, slug.”
At least he’s getting back to normal, Chuuya thought. “Oh, shut up,” he grumbled aloud. “Of course I’d keep an eye on your annoying ass.”
A scandalized, yet delighted gasp. “Chuuya likes looking at my ass?”
“…?! Shut up! That is not what I said—!”
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mimimar · 18 days
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finally completed my comic based on the song ivy by taylor swift!✿ please zoom in to read the text and see the details~
✿.✿.✿
you can get the digital zine pdf here! it includes extras like character profiles, costume design, more art of willow and ivy, zine-exclusive sketches and an illustrated guide to the symbolism of all the flowers in this comic.
you can also get prints of individual pages here!
✿.✿.✿
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itty-bitty-sunshine · 3 months
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Happy aro week to everyone who just really like giving gifts and making your friends stupidly happy for no special reason (yes this was a valentine special. Yes this is platonic)
Bonus:
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Friendly reminder to give all your friends love till they explode
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voltaical-art · 2 months
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part twooo!!! less sad on this one :)
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juniper-clan · 5 months
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MOON THREE (May 1701)
PREVIOUS l NEXT
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crabsnpersimmons · 1 month
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just wanted to say thank you for all the LOVE for Clip! he's happy to be here!
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Clip is hella competitive 😅
and here are some doodles inspired by some of your comments and tags!
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@nowiknowthislooksbad @normal-about-the-dca
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he's having fun (: (the kind of fun i would hate because i don't like the sound of balloons popping..)
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@vacantfields @petrixmuserb
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i like to think the hair salon does these kinds of things for charity often. would you be in line? what would you pick?
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@ramblingsofacotlfangirl @salamansir
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oh dear..
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@bennydunbar
loved this tag so i HAD to draw something for it--
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oop well okay! i think that's enough for today! thanks again!
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ismeneee · 23 days
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@tendermiasma's Clover and Halsin have my whole heart, I need them to be happy <3
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rodolfoparras · 17 days
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Say something stupid (like I love you)
Pairing: Male character x Top Male reader
Cw: 18+, non human yandere character, human yandere reader, stalking, obsessing, possessiveness, masturbation, bondage, blood play, spit play, non consensual voyeurism, dubious consent, dom male reader, sub male character
Synopis: After spending so many years looking for the right one for him, he finally finds you or you find him…
When he first met you he hadn’t intended to fall in love, matter of fact he’d long given up on the concept solely because his partners rarely viewed love and relationships in the same way that he did.
Sure they’ve gotten jealous over him but never did they get possessive like he did.
Sure they’ve loved him but never did they get obsessed like he did.
Sure he’d been in committed relationships but never did they allow him to claim them properly.
And because of that he always broke up with them.
It’s love, he tried to explain, the all consuming type that has you tapping into your deepest darkest desires.
His previous lovers didn’t understand it, no one seemed to do, until he met you.
He had observed you through the shadows at first, not wanting to scare you away before he’d even gotten the chance to say hello.
He’d watch you practice in the garden. You were rather skilled with the sword but there were still weak spots in your swordsmanship, windows of opportunity where someone could come and harm you.
From then on he decided that he’d do everything in his power to prevent you from getting hurt, even if that meant secretly watching you from bushes and trees while you practiced with your sword.
He’d sometimes watch you take short walks to town. You didn’t seem to care whether it was day or night, seemingly determined as ever to finish whatever errand you had in mind. But he cared because sure while you knew how to wield a sword, the world you lived in was very unpredictable. You shouldn’t roam around alone so of course he followed wherever you decided to go.
He’d even watch you sleep until dusk turned into dawn through the window you always forget to close. Sometimes you couldn’t fall asleep for whatever reason, so you’d lay in bed, body bare and on full display lazily stroking your dick, grunts and groans tumbling past your lips, as you steadily worked yourself towards your release.
He tried not to look, it would be rather improper of him. He’d instead trail his gaze around your surroundings to make sure no one was watching, no one else but him.
You never noticed him or maybe you did because sometimes you’d throw a look over your shoulder while practicing with your sword as if you could feel someone watching you.
And sometimes you’d take one too many unnecessary trips to town, each time taking a new and unfamiliar path as if wanting to keep him on his toes somehow.
And sometimes while pleasuring yourself, you’d gaze into the open window, right in the spot where he usually hides himself, eyes searching the dark as if you were looking for something or rather someone, as if you were looking for him.
However the most notable thing was that you never seemed to fear him, at least not from what he could see.
There were no goosebumps rising upon your skin whenever you thought someone was watching you at practice, no pulse wildly beating under your skin when he was following you closely, no shaking limbs except for when you inched closer to your release.
He was intrigued.
Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and soon enough he decided to make himself known.
When he’d stepped out of the shadows and into the light he’d been intrigued with how much more beautiful you were up close but he’d been more intrigued with how familiar you seemed to be with him.
You didn’t lunge him down to the ground, didn’t bring your sword to his throat, didn’t even try to walk away when he came up to you.
Instead you said his name with a soft smile on your face, pronouncing the string of letters as if you were rather familiar with them, as if you were familiar with him. How you’d found that out, he had no idea.
He was used to an air of caution surrounding his conquests, the other party needing some time before they warmed up to him, maybe two or three dates before they allowed him to steal a kiss but there was no need for that with you.
There was no need for it when you were the one to pull him in for a kiss, a yelp of surprise turning into whimpers and whines, steadily licking into his mouth as if trying to erase any trace of previous conquests, sucking on his tongue and biting on his lips as if trying to devour him, before breaking apart, a string of blood and spit connecting you to him
At that point his conquests usually try to run away. They see the wild look in his eyes, the blood smeared around his mouth and run for the hills.
Instead it seems like you’re trying to prevent him from running away, one hand keeping a vice like grip on his throat, thumb pressing down on his Adam apples til his ears ring and world blurs while the other hand blindly fumbles for the cleft of his ass, fingers brushing over his clothed entrance.
He’d never managed to go as far as to get his conquests into bed yet here you were tying his limbs to the bed posters, using a bit of pre to stretch the tight ring of muscles before sinking into his warm wet heat like you owed it, uncaring of the way he winces and hisses as you set a steady pace with your hips, solely focusing on your pleasure.
You keep your gaze glued to his, like he’d done with you for so many weeks, eyes wide and frantic as if someone would steal him away from you, taking in the tears trickling down his cheeks, the way spit is dribbling down his chin, the way his cock is uselessly slaps against his abdomen while you frantically thrust into him.
And when he thought it was time to leave, feeling absolutely spent and wrung dry, nothing but pathetic spurts of cum spilling from his cock,you had stopped him before he could even get up.
This time you lunged at him, still naked as ever, your hard cock pressing against his thigh while pushing the sharp blade of a knife up against his jugglar.
Right then and there he knew that he loved you
and he knew that you loved him too.
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chellychuu · 2 months
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Mini adopts 🎀
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